


If Love is Really Good

by catnipz



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Sad with a Happy Ending, but its for a good cause, does get a bit miserable there, gets real fuckin angsty at the end, i promise there is a happy ending, it lives!, mostly angst yeah, only a little though, theres a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12367773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnipz/pseuds/catnipz
Summary: The world ends. But maybe that's not so bad, in the end.





	If Love is Really Good

**Author's Note:**

> im terrible at writing about fake 'real' places so i found a town for the basis of their town and no lie its called buchanan in michigan and its perfect look it up is this fate? i think so
> 
> title comes from the song All The Lovers by Kylie Minogue which i listened to on repeat while editing this. i do not recommend listening to it while reading because it doesnt fit the mood at all

The end of the world doesn’t happen as you would expect. In the end, the earth still spins, the birds still sing and the sun still rises in the east, sets in the west. Steve almost wishes it wouldn’t. It’s too normal.

 

It’s difficult to manage time when everything you know collapses around you, so Steve has no idea how long it takes him and Natasha to leave the basement. At first they wait until the rioting and the killing and sudden insanity to die down. Then they wait for people to stop breaking into the house above them. Then it’s just until they are nearly out of food and water and they have no other option than to pack up and get the hell out. Steve would put his estimate at eight months.

 

Steve doesn’t want to leave anything behind, Natasha doesn’t want to take anything with them; they're both very sentimental.

 

The apocalypse is hard for Steve. Well, it’s hard for everyone, but Steve has based his entire life around order and rules and The Right Thing and suddenly he has been flung into a world of chaos and here, everyone’s moral compass in shot to hell and Steve is floundering, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t survive this because at his core, Steve is nothing if not a survivor.

 

Natasha appears to be revelling in this new world. She’s a survivor too.

 

Steve is beyond thankful for being stuck with Nat in all of this. She still won’t tell him what she did before it all, (which is ridiculous because nothing is ’classified’ anymore) but whatever it was, it’s gotten them out of five spots of trouble (that Steve landed them in, every goddamn time) before they’ve been out of the basement for a week. Not that Steve couldn’t handle himself, (he’s the kind of guy that could probably bench press a train) but it was usually seven on one and in no way is that reasonable. Unless you have Natasha.

 

On the eighth day, it happened again, but that time Nat wasn’t even pissed that she had to get their asses out of trouble. It was a world in which a moral code was rare and so neither of them were surprised when they came across a young girl and her smaller brother surrounded by three, gnarly men, leering at them. No, they  weren’t surprised. But that did not stop the blood from boiling in their veins at the sight.

 

They fought together, Steve with brute strength and Natasha with an efficiency that saw all the men unconscious within five minutes, but the kids were gone and Steve knew that the inevitable next time, someone might not be there to help. He didn’t count it as a victory.

 

On the eleventh day, Steve found a small lined notebook and a shitty, clicker pencil and drew pointless things like washing machines and sofas, things that used to be nothing to anyone. He also drew Nat, a rough, scratchy copy of her face, framed by the short, shiny hair she used to have. It had gotten longer now and clung to her head, straight, unwashed and dirty.

 

On the seventeenth day, they didn’t speak a word to each other all day. They walked and walked and walked in silence. 

 

The next day Natasha cried and Steve held her, quiet tears rolling down his own grimy face, into her straight hair. For the countless days after that, they pushed it all away and walked on.

 

                                                                                 *

 

“Can you hear that?”

 

They were both perched on the roof of a white car, (all the other cars were mad hot from the sun) playing rummy with a deck of cards they found inside another car, that Steve swore was missing the three of clubs. (Natasha had it).

 

Steve snapped his head up and scanned around the immediate area, although Nat had probably already done that about thirty seconds ago (she had). “Is that an engine?”

 

Natasha actually shut her eyes like some terrible spy movie and said, gesturing with her left hand, “It’s a truck, down the road that way and to the left. Come on, hide.”

 

They both scrambled off the top of the roof, Steve’s boots banging against the metal, and ducked down an alleyway that allowed them to see the main road clearly. Steve was crouched, leaning heavily on one hand so he could peer around Nat and down the road, when he glanced down to see a tiny kids shoe next to his hand. It was caked in reddish-brown dirt and Steve shivered before grabbing it and launching it away from him, making sure he threw it so hard, it found the next state.

 

Turning his head back towards the road, Steve saw Nat was tense and focused, squinting off into the distance, at something so far down the road Steve had no chance of seeing. He strained and stretched his neck anyway, trying to spot any movement down the road, but came up with nothing. Natasha was stock-still. They didn’t breathe, Steve didn’t know why. Moments passed.

 

Natasha broke the silence first, a small, squashed rumble in the back of her throat and sunk backward into Steve who panicked, because this was Natasha and she didn’t do this, she didn’t falter, not for any threat. Except right then she was breathing hard and clutching at Steve like she did a week before, but different and honestly, Steve was really fucking scared of whatever made Natasha like this.

 

But then she looked up at Steve, eyes glinting in the sun that didn’t even make her squint, and smiled. She smiled wide and toothy and giggled a little bit and Steve really thought she had finally cracked. That there had been one threat too many and this was the last straw and Steve was gonna have to pick up the pieces. Except Natasha started talking and said,

 

“It’s Clint.” She let out a soft breath and grasped Steve’s hand. She suddenly frowned, jumping up and taking off before Steve could fully process what she just said.

 

Goddamn Clint. Of course he made it too. Steve couldn’t help but grin before sprinting after Nat to punch Clint directly in the face and then hug him till he felt like Steve used to in winter. As in very short of fucking breath.

 

As things go, Steve found no need to punch Clint in the face as Natasha got there first and delivered a blow with a stupid amount of force for someone her size and said, as if she needed to justify it, “You look even stupider without that dumbass plaster on your nose.”

 

Clint just stared at her as if she hung the moon and scooped her up and buried his face in her (apparently slightly more fiery) hair. They grasped on to each other, both murmuring in the others ear. Even if he could’ve heard them, Steve wouldn’t have listened. Whatever Natasha and Clint had between them, it was so precious to them, so deeply felt, Steve wouldn’t know where to begin to try and explain it, he’d certainly never had that with another person.

 

Then Steve was, quite suddenly, startled out of his own head by a girl, maybe ten years or so younger than him, nudging his elbow and jerking her chin towards Nat and Clint.

 

"They're gross, aren’t they?” She had one eyebrow raised, a smirk sitting comfortably on her lips and stark, black hair setting a shocking contrast to her pale face.

 

“I think it’s sweet, been awhile since I’ve seen love like that,” Steve raked a hand through his hair and turned to face the girl. He’d heard so much about Kate, mostly from Clint (“She’s a fucking perfect shot, Steve, and she’s like nine, it’s wounding my ego”) but Nat had mentioned her a few times as well, so it was nice to put a face to the name.

 

 “You’re Kate then? It’s nice to finally meet you.” He offered his hand too, because screw the apocalypse, Steve was gonna be a gentleman for as long as is humanly possible.

 

Kate snorted a little, but seemed pleased and took his hand saying, “Only took the apocalypse, right?”

 

Steve laughed and he realized how much he’d missed little conversations like that. Meaningless but so meaningful at the same time.

 

Natasha and Clint finally stopped clinging to each other and Clint barreled into Steve’s chest, grumbling about him being a ‘lucky motherfucker, god fucking damn, Steve’ and Steve laughed (again!) while wrapping his arms around Clint and slapping him on the back (avoiding the arrows slung there) as males do sometimes. Steve even teared up (and so did Clint, but no one saw that), which is something else that males do when not trying to exert a warped definition of masculinity.

 

After the initial hugs and ‘I’ve missed you, man’s’, Steve and Natasha recounted their time since everything went drastically downhill and in turn, Clint and Kate did the same.

 

They had a pretty similar experience to Steve and Natasha, except, instead of a basement, they sealed off the top part of Clint’s apartment building along with a few other people and stayed there for a while. As for the people who inevitably tried to get in, well, they had two of the best marksmen in the world to keep them covered.

 

"We caught wind that there's a sort of little settlement that should be a few miles north of here, I think it’s  they got this system that’s keeping everything running, water-wise, and they're secure. That's where we were heading just now," Clint rubbed a hand over his mouth and sighed. "We heard that... some time ago. We’ve been going for ages and I don’t know if it'll still be there but it's worth a shot, right? Everything back in the city’s dead.”

"I uh, I think that’s near where my Mom used to live, and um, Sam’s sister," Steve shrugged and tried to seem nonchalant, but clearly it didn’t work, Natasha put a hand on his elbow and squeezed. Clint nodded at him as if to say “yeah, i know, buddy.”

 

"We'll give it a go." She held his eyes with hers for a few moments before moving away to talk to Clint and Kate about how they were gonna get to this 'camp'.

 

Steve stayed where he was, leant against the hood of the nearest car and pointedly did not freak out. Clint was alive. Kate was alive. There was a camp that possibly contained water, food and some of his Mom’s neighbours and by neighbours, Steve meant Sam and his sister. Sam, who, before all this, had saved Steve’s goddamn life. When he came back from Afghanistan, a captain in the U.S Army, a decorated soldier, a war hero and a fucking mess. Sam saw him through it all, helping way more than a VA counsellor needed to, and then ended up sticking around when Steve didn’t really need it anymore (which is a total lie, there was never a time Steve didn’t need Sam Wilson to kick his ass over something).

 

Sam was the reason Steve moved his Mom when she got sick. Their old apartment in Brooklyn didn’t have an elevator and she was too weak to trawl around the city every day. A bungalow was for sale in Trenton and Sam’s sister lived less than thirty seconds away from it, which meant Sam was nearby a lot; it was perfect. Sam ended up taking care of Steve’s Mom nearly as much as Steve did in her last weeks and he stood right beside Steve at the funeral. His solid presence being the only thing that got Steve through the worst day of his life. 

 

“Steve, come on, get your ass in gear,” Nat’s voices startles him out of his own head, “Here take your bag, we’ll probably be there in a couple of days if we keep the pace up.”

 

Steve blinked. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on his shoulder mercilessly. That wasn’t going to slow him down, he had a purpose, a mission. He was going to get to Sam.

 

                                                                                        *

“You know him? Where is he, where -”

 

 Breathe.

 

"I'm so sorry, Steve, I'm sorry"

 

Keep breathing.

 

“Steve are you sure you wanna do this?”

 

Focus.

 

“Let me come with you, please.”

 

One breath at a time.

 

“You can’t leave me now, Steve-”

 

It’s all gonna be okay.

 

“You promise you’re coming back?”

 

 

Except it’s not. It’s the fucking end of the world.

 

 

“I promise.”

 

                                                                                        *

 

The town looked like one big road, little red, white and grey, square buildings lining it forever and ever, never ending. He knew there was other shit behind this road, but he couldn’t see them and his imagination was running away with him. It looked like a scene from a strange modern western film. Dusty roads and weeds, but with a Burger King in a gas station on the corner, not a desolate bar.

 

Sam hadn’t been there. Sam had been there, just 37 days before Steve was there. And 37 days away from camp with no contact equaled ‘probably dead’ in their books. But not in Steve’s. So Steve carried on. He wasn’t done yet.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Steve knew the chances of finding Sam in this waste of America were really goddamn slim, knew that leaving the camp was a stupid fucking idea, knew that he only left because he was selfish and needed to escape or he was gonna suffocate because the reality of what was happening was hitting him every five seconds.

 

He just kept putting one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t even looking.

 

Which was why he didn’t see the group of six unfairly huge men walking towards him, glaring.

 

“You lost, brother?”

 

Steve snapped his head up and faltered in his tracks, taking in the men and immediately regretting everything, ever.

 

“I’m just passing through, I meant no harm,” Steve held his hands up and forced himself to sound more confident than he felt.

 

“I have no doubt that you were, brother, but you see, these are… trying times. We can’t just let anybody pass through,” The guy who was apparently the leader had a long gnarled scar running from the right of his neck to the left of his face, just next to his ear. But Steve wasn’t looking at that; he was watching as the guy swiftly pulled a long blade from the pouch hanging on his thigh. Nice. “Now why don’t you be a good boy and empty out that pack you got there?”

 

“Whoa come on man, I’ve got nothin’ of value on me, I’m nearly through, I’ve not caused any problems, please,” Steve knew he was a good fighter, but he had no weapons or shielding, bar a small pocket knife. He couldn’t win here.

 

He'd heard rumors from those he and Natasha passed walking, of people forming territorial groups, of people losing it and turning almost savage. Frankly, Steve had brushed these rumors aside, thought them ridiculous, except now he was seriously wishing that he wasn’t so naïve and had come actually prepared.

 

"No can do brother," The Scarface said. He ran the tip of his blade along the dirt and flicked a little bit of dust up towards Steve.

 

This guy just wants a fight, Steve thought. They weren't actually gonna let him go, even if he gave them everything he had.

 

"Please man, we're all in the same boat here," Steve desperately tried to think his way out of it, eyeing up alleys and crap on the floor nearby to use. This wasn't going to fucking work.

 

“This is our ground, brother. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out, at least not in-”

 

“I’m sorry, whose ground is this?”

 

The men dropped their grins and stepped back, except Scarface who growled and squeezed his knife even tighter in his giant, beefy fist.

 

There was a small laugh and a guy, who, honestly, looked really fucking haggard, jumped down from a balcony to Steve’s left and stalked towards them all, eyes trained on Scarface. He ground to a halt mere inches away from Scarface and cast a glance behind him at Steve, who couldn’t help but think ‘Really? This guy? This guy looks like he hasn’t slept since 2006.’ But then he raises his left arm and draws it back and Steve literally only just noticed it’s made of actual metal, and obliterates Scarface’s face in one whirring blow.

 

Then, with some sick yelling of “You’ll pay for that,” and the like, all hell broke lose. The silver-armed guy dodged and leaped and rolled, nimble as a fox and quicker than Steve could keep track of, swinging fast punches and kicks, a small, serrated blade to hand. He didn’t appear to actually badly wound anyone though, the knife was for legs and arms, bringing each of them to their knees. Steve hadn’t even had time to think about maybe chipping in and helping, before all the men were lying on the ground, either unconscious or groaning. 

 

Crazy-metal-arm-fighting guy turned back to Scarface, who was staggering up again, breathing heavily through the thick stream of blood pouring out of his amazingly shattered nose. It was like a work of art.

 

‘I warned you, to stop all this shit,” Metal arm guy growled, tongue curling around the words he spat at the leader of the group. “Next time, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

 

Then he sprung forward, closing the gap in two quick leaps and curved his back to dodge the fist flung at his face and slip straight past Scarface. As metal arm guy was turning Scarface swung his arm behind him with a snarl that showed his yellow stained teeth, but Mr. Metal was too quick. He grabbed Scarface’s fist in his own, squeezing enough to make the bones crack unpleasantly, then hit the elbow forwards in the wrong direction leaving the arm definitely, without-a-doubt broken. He screamed, watery and high pitched as Mr. Metal hooked a foot around the other man’s to send him straight to the floor.

 

He leaned close to the guy’s face and held it steady with his left hand as he murmured just loud enough for Steve to hear, “I warned you,” then, so fast Steve barely caught the movement, slammed a fist into the guy’s face again and knocked him out cold.

 

Steve was contemplating running for his dear fucking life as Mr. Metal stood up, but he didn’t. Maybe Steve was feeling curious and bold. Or maybe he was too shocked by the shit-show that lay before him. Christ. And he thought Nat was insane when she fought.

 

This guy was wearing a black t-shirt, with jeans (not tight, but not baggy by any means, Steve noticed) and ratty boots with lots of laces tied halfway up his calf. His hair was long and brown, tied up in a small bun at the back, which, at this point, had more hair out than in. His face though, tired looking or not, Steve had to say a small prayer because, God almighty, if this dude wasn’t the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. And yeah, maybe it was because everything was ugly and dead these days, but those eyes were bright and that mouth was sinful.

 

Then completely casually, the dude said, “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Uh, um, I’m uh, Steve?” Steve stuttered out because he was a moron and also still a little dazed.

 

“You sure about that?” The man had a slight smirk on his lips.

 

“I- yeah I. Who are you? What’s going on?” Nice one, Rogers.

 

The guy just let out a small huff of laughter and said, “I just saved your ass is what’s going on.”

 

“Uh okay?” It was true, but Steve still wasn’t any clearer on the situation. “What’s your name? Oh and thank you, for the um, the – that, what you did,” Steve was dying, it was so painful to hear himself speak sometimes.

 

The guy shrugged and tilted his head back, exposing the line of his neck and blowing out a breath. “Honestly, I’ve been lookin’ for a reason to beat the shit outta these assholes for a while now, so thank you back,” He rolled his head to look at Steve and pull the corner of his lips up into a smirk. God.

 

“Um, you’re welcome?” What was this, what was he doing? Awkward small talk with the guy who just saved his life? Guess so. “Is this like, is this your territory round here?”

 

“I suppose,” He dusted his feet on the ground and started to redo his hair bun thing. “I don’t even really know where here is, I never bothered to check. I just, found myself here and it turns out this place is filled is complete assholes. They keep me busy.”

 

“Huh, I guess I don’t know where I am either, I’m just walking till, y’know, I stop?” Steve frowned at his boots; He didn’t mean to say that. It sounded weird and sad to his own ears, let alone somebody else’s.

 

“You wanna come with me for a little bit?”

 

Steve’s head snapped up to see this guy he didn’t know, who had just taken down six men built like brick shithouses in about three seconds flat, who looked like trouble personified, staring at him, eyebrows raised, even looking a little hopeful if Steve was being optimistic, and he knew, he knew that he should turn and walk very far away from this, but he didn’t.

 

“Yeah, why not?”

 

Fuckin’ genius, Rogers.

 

“Hey, I never got your name,” He added, because he didn’t.

 

The guy paused a moment, a little twitch of his flesh fingers and said, “It’s Bucky,” then rolled his eyes and turned away from Steve. “Stupid fuckin’ name, right?”

 

                                                                                          *

 

The thing was, Steve didn’t like being alone. He liked to be with people, to talk to people, even if it was just a thirty second conversation with the girl he bought coffee from every morning. Or well, used to.

So he didn’t really want to head out alone, to be walking for days on end with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company, but he felt like he needed it. Nat had known Sam, so had Clint and most of the people at the camp they had found, but they didn’t know him like Steve had and they couldn’t understand how Steve was feeling, no matter how often they told him they did. He knew everybody had lost somebody and that this dismissal of their attempt at consoling him was totally unreasonable, but he didn’t actually care if he was being reasonable or not, they hadn’t lost his Sam.

 

Which was how he had found himself packing a bag, making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep and heading out into the wasteland of America.

 

He’d gotten lonely pretty quick. Days passing without him seeing another person, not even in the far off distance - it got to him. So when Bucky offered for him to come with, there was really never any chance he was going to decline. To have someone to talk to, even just be with, someone who didn’t know he was still grieving and could maybe take his mind off of everything, especially someone who had the ability to take down six giant ass men in two minutes flat and still look like America’s next top model, he kinda needed it.                                                                                     

 

“So, uh, how’d you end up… doing this?” Steve tried to coax something out of him for the third time.

 

Turned out Bucky was not one for talking all that much. They’d been walking around, above the town for a couple of hours at that point and Steve was beginning to think that Bucky was seriously regretting asking him to come along. He’d never seen a man be so tense for so long. He walked with his shoulders practically up round his ears and took long stiff strides. Only stopping to hop over a gap in the roofs or clamber over something. He kept cracking his knuckles too, not menacingly like in films, but just running his thumb over each finger of his right hand and pushing down until… crack.

 

The first attempt at conversation had been him asking if this was Bucky’s hometown, to which Bucky had shrugged and said “Maybe.” Steve waited for him to follow that up with some explanation for about five minutes, until he realised that this was just possibly Bucky’s hometown and he wasn’t going to get much further than that. So Steve had accepted that and didn’t push and decided that Bucky’s possible hometown was a rather nice place to possibly hail from.

 

The second attempt had been a total, disastrous failure. Steve had asked about the arm. The massively cool, futuristic, metal arm with a bunch of silver plates gliding together seamlessly with every move Bucky made. Steve was surprised he managed to make it the second question.

 

He quickly discovered however, that the arm was a total no-go zone, since Bucky had whirled round to face Steve, drawing the arm slightly behind his back and glaring at Steve, looking damn near murderous. Steve had frozen, not quite sure how to deal with this and gently raised his hands slightly, palms facing forward.

 

“Okay, okay, there’s a line, I get it,” he said. “M’sorry.”

 

Bucky stopped glowering but didn’t say a word before snapping forward and marching off again.

 

Now, Steve was staring at Bucky’s right ear, waiting to see if Bucky was gonna answer, punch or ignore him. They hadn't stopped walking so Steve thought, maybe not with the punching. That's always good.

 

“I came outta there, that big forest,” Bucky suddenly gestured vaguely to his right, flapping his hand. They were walking along a line of small apartment buildings with tiny gaps in between so it wasn’t difficult to hop to the next building. Steve could see the end though and he was really hoping that there was a fire escape like at the start of the block because he was definitely not as acrobatic as Bucky. Behind the buildings, was a carpark and beyond that, is a field. It's massively overgrown, the grass obviously used to being trimmed every so often, but at its edge, there was indeed, a big forest. A big forest sloping upwards and over, drowning the giant hill it grew on.

 

 “I’d been walking for days before that, I think, I don’t know really. I forget things sometimes.” Bucky frowned, a slight dent forming between his eyebrows and his bottom lip pulling up, just a little.

 

“Hey, that's okay,” Steve said. “I think sometimes it'd be nicer to forget a couple of things.”

 

“Don't say that.” Steve glanced up at Bucky who was next to him now. He was looking right at Steve, steely eyes boring right into him.

 

“Why?” Steve tried. He shouldn't have; Bucky turned away and picked up his pace, not like he was trying to get away, but enough to be out of step with Steve.

 

Damn, Steve thought, that could have counted as a whole conversation.

 

They continued walking in relative silence, Steve only breaking it to murmur “Thank God” at the sight of the fire escape. Bucky didn’t let on if he heard or not.

 

There seemed to be only one real main road in this town, four lanes wide, with the actual town spreading out along small, two-lane roads on either side. The weird thing was, there was hardly anything on the main road. 

A lot of dust, a handful of cars and not much else. Every other main road Steve had seen had been packed with cars that were once desperately trying to flee to find somewhere they had a better chance of surviving in. Here, it was like nobody deemed the end of the world serious enough to get the hell outta dodge.

 

After walking along the weird ass road for an hour or so Steve guessed, Bucky made a rough noise in the back of his throat and said “Who's Sam?”

 

Steve faltered. He’d never mentioned Sam. They’d had a total of ten minutes conversation and Sam had most certainly not come up in any of that.

 

“How do you know about Sam?” he asked.

 

“Uh,” Bucky looked guilty and uncomfortable and Steve felt momentarily sorry for the guy, but then again he knew about Sam somehow, and Steve didn’t care much. Bucky looked at his feet and frowned before saying “When you came into town, I kept an eye on you for a bit? So I was um, there when you were asleep and uh, you kept saying his name.”

 

It was the longest sentence Steve had heard him string together yet, although it was clearly a horrible thing for him to have to do. To be fair, it was an odd confession, “I heard you say this dudes name in your sleep while I was stalking you, hey, tell me about him,” but Steve could see his point and it's an odd world these days anyway.

 

“He was my best friend,” Steve stared down at the ground and scrunched up his nose, sucked his lip between his teeth. Was. It still hurt. No matter how long Steve had been walking, how much he’d seen, he still missed Sam.

He didn’t remember dreaming about Sam, he was lucky in the way that he got nightmares, but never remembered them when he woke. He would wake with a frantic heartbeat, dizzy and no fucking idea where he was, but he at least never remembered exactly where his mind had been, although it wasn’t too hard to make a guess as to where. It’s a small blessing. Especially when the nightmares had woken him screaming, sweat pouring off his body, reaching for a gun that he no longer had or needed.

 

“Okay.” His voice was small, but he wasn’t looking at Steve with pity, it was more like understanding and it was comforting. Steve didn’t have to go into detail, didn’t have to explain what happened, he answered Bucky’s question and didn’t want to say more and Bucky gets that. Turned out they both had stuff that wasn’t quite on the table yet.

 

Neither one of them looked away and Steve felt a little hot under the collar with Bucky’s eyes boring into him. Before they had just looked grey, but here, with Bucky facing the sun, they were strikingly blue and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He hoped that Bucky doesn’t notice, but he didn’t seem to be the type of guy that let anything slip by him and Steve was probably imagining things, but he swore the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched up. Dammit.

 

“Come on then,” Steve said, turning away. “Haven’t got all day.”

 

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Bucky folded his arms, leaning back, like he was trying to mess with Steve. Steve will not be deterred.

 

“Well it sure isn’t here,” Steve said, then realised, “We are actually going somewhere, aren’t we?”

 

Bucky smiled properly now, teeth showing and all. The front two were a tiny bit crooked and Steve was pointedly not noticing how cute that was.

 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “You’ll like it. I think everyone does.”

 

                                                                               *

 

Bucky seemed to loosen up after that; He was no longer walking with a hunch to his shoulders and he stopped twitching at every sound Steve made. Steve had been debating whether or not to actually just hold his breath on the off chance that his complete silence might’ve calmed the guy down. Bucky also stopped cracking his knuckles every so often, which, thank God, because wow, that was getting on Steve’s nerves and seriously, Steve’s a calm guy (or he likes to think he is, but everyone knows that that is Bullshit).

 

 They walked along rooftops, through little housed areas, across a field and truthfully, the place was kinda shabby and old fashioned but Steve thought it was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen (maybe he really was losing it a little).

 

It was almost untouched. There was no evidence of the riots and the panic and the violence that had consumed so many.  Every row of houses they passed, every convenience store on a corner, every four-by-four, seven seater, kid-proof family car they saw, Steve felt a pinch in his gut, like a sudden, painful longing for the world to be set back right again.

 

It made Steve ache, thinking like that, made him long for even the most mundane things. Grocery shopping, making toast, losing car keys, every stupid little thing that filled up his life, he missed it so much.

 

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice drew him out of his head. “We’re here.”

 

‘Here’ turned out to be a bridge; one of those wide, four lane bridges that could have trucks stacked on top of it without it breaking a sweat. Coming out of the side of that bridge, however, was a smaller, more rickety, more dangerous bridge that Steve wouldn’t feel comfortable letting a cat tread on. Of course, that was the bridge Bucky was standing at the edge of, up on the balls of his feet like a goddamn excitable kid.

 

“I’m really hoping you don’t expect me to put one foot on that thing,” he said, hands on his hips in what he hoped was a commanding stance.

 

“Come on, trust me,” Bucky almost whined. God, this guy had a new personality every five seconds, Steve thought.

 

“It’s made of wood and rope.”

 

Bucky looked up at the sky, exasperated, before saying, “Okay, you’re heavier than me, obviously, I’m guessing you got around 230 pounds on you. But this is has got three-inch-thick rope, doubled up through the whole length and the boards are solid, I got rid of the bad ones months ago. The rope is anchored into the rock on either side with steel pegs and if you actually manage to fuck up and fall, I will catch you. Alright?”

 

It was incredibly tempting to straight-up refuse, which would be the logical thing to do and for a second, Steve didn’t even consider not saying no, but when had Steve Rogers ever said no to someone because he was a little scared? 

 

“I fuck up and fall, I’m dragging you down with me,” he grumbled under his breath. He didn’t think Bucky would hear him, but the quiet chuckle to his side said otherwise.

 

Heights weren’t Steve’s strong point; a shitty accident on a sleeper train in the goddamn mountains of fucking Siberia had stuck with him to this day, so when he got the the edge of solid land and his toes were peeking over the edge onto the wooden slats, he hesitated. He hesitated and he felt stupid for it; it wasn’t like the drop was all that high, it probably wouldn’t kill either of them, there was water underneath.

 

He was on his third inhale of calming-down-breaths, when he felt a hand at the small of his back. Barely there, just fingertips light on his skin, through his shirt, but he stopped breathing entirely.

“I got you,” Bucky’s voice came from right behind his ear, voice quiet and close; Steve could feel his breath on his neck and the heat of a body barely an inch away from his own. “I got you,” he repeated, even quieter.

 

Before Steve could do something embarrassing, he pushed all the air trapped in his lungs out and took a few ungraceful steps onto the bridge. It rocked and swayed and creaked and Steve literally saw his life flash before his eyes for a second.

 

“Oh my God this is so unsafe, Bucky, why are you making me do this?” Steve panicked and made to grab hold of the rope on one side of the bridge, but it was fucking useless and just tipped further out making Steve yell out a swear or two.

 

Bucky laughed and appeared at Steve’s side, a comforting hand on his chest and the other on his back, keeping him steady. Steve hadn’t even felt the bridge move when Bucky stepped on, he was so light on his feet.

 

“Just relax okay, don’t try to lean on anything, stand straight.”

 

“I’m trying okay, this goddamn bridge is moving anyway and it won’t stop and I’m gonna lose my balance and -”

 

“Shut up and stop thinking about everything all at once, Jesus. You’re so dramatic,” Bucky’s lips were curved into a lazy smile and he wound his arm around Steve’s waist to hold him steady and, christ, Steve needed to stop staring. At least he’d shut up and stopped thinking so damn much. 

 

“Okay good, look it’s stopped wobbling about,” Bucky said. “Now just move a little bit to the right and keep your eyes on your feet. But, uh, don’t look past your feet, at the, um, drop.”

 

As panicked as Steve was, he was still very capable of throwing Bucky his most sarcastic glare, who looked away and rolled his eyes.

 

“Shut up, just move.”

 

“I didn’t say a word,” Steve muttered, smirking, but they started moving along, inch by inch, Steve not moving his eyes from his ratty, gross boots. Bucky’s arm never left his waist. 

 

“Alright, look up.” 

 

The words made him jump which sent a quiver through the bridge, but Steve wasn’t paying attention anymore. They were stood right above the middle of the river below them, water running furiously towards them, forming white rivulets where the rocks were lodged, dense and unmoving in its way. Where they were stood on the bridge meant they could follow the path of the river right up until it disappeared between either a small mountain or a huge hill and the edge of the town. Trees hung over the sides, well into full bloom, with petals of orange and pink dripping into the water. It was fucking beautiful. 

 

“Holy shit,” Steve didn’t know what else to say. “Buck, this is- this is beautiful.”

 

Bucky was staring straight ahead, smiling gently with his face relaxed and Steve could see his eyes tracking things that fell into the water before them. “I know.”

 

Steve didn’t know how long they stood there, watching the water and the trees, but it could’ve been forever, it felt like. It was soothing, the sounds and the air, Bucky next to him, present and comforting, pointing things out to him that he thought were cool. At some point it turned into a little game, who could find the coolest thing to look at and then it turned into who could spot the coolest bird. Bucky was leading with a bright red cardinal that Steve totally saw too but apparently didn’t shout out quick enough.

 

“Sam would’ve liked this,” he said suddenly. “Him and my other buddy Clint would go out bird watching together and it used to be this big secret but Nat found out and told me. I’m kinda glad it was her that found out, because they might’ve actually killed me, but everyone was always a bit scared of her.”

 

He shut his mouth as fast as he’d opened it, feeling more than a little bit lost in his head and trying to push down the overwhelming guilt that threatened to make his knees weak and his heart beat way too fast. He couldn’t think about it, not yet, it hadn’t even been two weeks and he was talking like, like Sam was dead and gone when he didn’t know, not for sure.

 

“Why’s everyone so scared of Nat?” Bucky said, as if he knew who he was talking about. Steve was grateful though, to be prompted to keep talking about other stuff. He noticed Bucky had a hand on his elbow; he kept touching Steve and Steve wanted him to keep doing it. 

 

Steve cleared his throat, even though he didn’t need to, and just started talking, “She’s like, a mystery to all of us, I mean, I’ve known her for four years, met her when I started working for Stark, not as anything special, just as security, but I liked it there y’know? I liked lookin’ out for the people there because they were nice and Nat was one of ‘em and it was like we’d known each other forever. She even let me move in with her when I got kicked out of my place for starting fights with some folks in the building. But I still have no fuckin’ idea what she does for a living,” he broke off with a chuckle, she wouldn’t even tell him when there was no one to enforce whatever she’d signed to keep her mouth shut. 

 

“She’d disappear for days at a time, sometimes even a week or two and she wouldn’t tell anybody, I think not even Clint and they’re probably soulmates or something weird like that. But anyway, we were out one night at some shitty bar in Manhattan where a beer cost more than my rent, and there was a whole group of us, I think nine maybe? We were out and we were walking down to the next terrible bar but there were these guys in an alley with a girl and it wasn’t a good situation. I mean, I just saw red and was already halfway over and yellin’ all kinds of crap at them without a thought, but Nat, she just stormed right ahead a beat the ever-loving shit outta these guys without breakin’ a sweat.”

 

He looked over to Bucky who was staring right back at him, like he was actually really listening to whatever Steve was rambling about, like Steve wasn’t some dude he’d met less than a day ago, who’d clung onto him because he was scared of heights and then started spewing his life story because he was torn up about losing someone. As if he was the only one. 

 

He couldn’t look at Bucky anymore, his eyes were too earnest and they were probably just full of pity that Steve was refusing to see, so he turned his head away and brushed off whatever the moment was with a smile and an, “It was like you, y’know, when you took down those guys? That was some impressive stuff.”

 

Bucky’s face faltered just slightly, he drew himself in a little straighter and Steve knew he messed up, but where, he wasn’t sure.

 

“I wish I didn’t know all that stuff,” he murmured, almost silent so Steve barely caught it. He rolled his left shoulder backwards and sighed, “It’s getting dark, we better go find a place to spend the night, we’re too far away from my place.”

 

He turned and caught Steve’s fingers in his own, pulling him gently along the bridge to solid land (thank God). Steve didn’t want to let go. 

 

        *

 

Sleeping arrangements had become pretty dire in recent times; it was very much a ‘stay awake at all times or find a really excellent hidey hole so you don’t get murdered’ situation.

 

Making it on his own Steve had found that underneath cars were good, if a little confining, inside cars were okay if you were absolutely sure that nobody was around and that inside houses were the ultimate death trap. It was like there was a night patrol for every goddamn neighbourhood in North America.

 

Bucky seemed to feel safe up on the roofs. Good vantage point and not confined, he’d told Steve, but Steve wasn’t convinced. He felt so exposed, like he was going to wake up to some butcher holding a blood-stained axe, standing over his body, ready to cut him in half.

 

“Would you stop with the excessively vivid imagination,” Bucky groaned. 

 

“I just want to make sure you know how opposed I am to this unnecessary recklessness, for when we get hacked to bits in our sleep.” 

 

“Look, pal, I managed to keep myself alive just fine before you showed up, so when I say it’s safe up here, fucking trust me.”

 

“Fine, okay, jeez,” Steve grumbled, sitting down heavily next to Bucky and leaning back against the little wall. “You gonna keep watch for a little bit or is it too safe to bother?”

 

Bucky looked at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled, “Shut up and go to sleep, punk.”

 

Steve laughed quietly as he shifted down a little so he was almost lying and shut his eyes before saying, “Jerk.”

 

        *

 

The next time Steve opened his eyes, he was, for the first time in literal weeks, really comfortable. This was probably due to the fact that his unconscious self was a complete traitor, and had managed to sprawl his body completely over Bucky, who was sleeping with his head tilted back, mouth open and making small snoring noises. 

 

His head had ended up laying at a weird angle over Bucky’s stomach, and he’d thrown his left leg over Bucky’s left and the rest of him was just lying right on Bucky’s left side. It was definitely inappropriate and weird and Steve would feel guilty enough to move if Bucky wasn’t so damn warm and didn’t have a hand around Steve’s waist and tucked in his jacket pocket. The metal one at that. 

 

Then Steve was reminded of why he’d woken up in the first place when he heard a broken, high-pitched whine and a pained bark. 

 

He was wrenching himself away from Bucky and scrambling to his feet in seconds, running to the edge of the building and flinging himself down the side even quicker. He landed hard on the balls of his feet rocking himself forward into a roll so he didn’t completely shatter the bones in his legs and, after stumbling a little to get upright, set off down the alley towards the source of the barking. 

 

The adrenaline was thrumming through his veins and his heart was beating so fast, the sound of blood rushing past his ears blocked out Bucky’s panicked, confused yelling about what the fuck Steve thought he was doing and to wait up, you jackass.

 

Rounding a corner, Steve came upon young two guys, barely scraping themselves out of their teens and one huge, pathetic, miserable, messed up dog. He cleared his throat.

 

The two kids spun round to face him, spooked at first, but after glancing round him to see that he was alone, settled down. Steve had to refrain from taking a look around himself, because honestly, he kinda thought Bucky would have followed him. But he didn’t, apparently.

 

“What d’you want?” One of them said. He was taller than the other, with blond hair in a messy plait at the nape of his neck and he was frowning heavily at Steve. He had angled his body sideways, so he was slightly in front of the other boy. The smaller one looked like he was saying something, moving his lips but no sound was coming out.  

 

Neither did the dog; It was lay on its right side on the floor, breathing slow but heavily. A patch of fur behind its front leg, look like it was matted and stiff with blood.

 

“I heard the dog,” Steve said, “It sounded hurt.”

 

“What concern of yours is that? It’s our dog. You ain’t got no business hearin’ our dog.” The smaller kid started smiling at that and shut his eyes.  

 

“Look, I haven’t got anything against you, kid, but I can see, clear as day that the dog is hurt. It needs help.”

 

“We ain’t done shit,” the taller one snarled, spitting the last word out. The other kid flinched, hard and his mouth pulled down at the corners and his nose screwed up. Oh shit, Steve thought.

 

“Hey, calm down, I’m not trying to pick a fight here okay? I was just checking the dog’s alright,” Steve took a hesitant step forward which turned out to be a dumb move when the smaller kid let out a cry and was suddenly clutching a knife in his shaking hand. He obviously wasn’t familiar with holding one, hand too far down the grip, angling it awkwardly towards Steve, but the ferocity in his eyes was so sudden and so wild that Steve found himself pushing down a swell of panic.

 

It was then that Bucky made an appearance, stalking past Steve and right up to the two boys, who, to Steve’s surprise, seemed delighted to see him. 

 

“Hey Bucky!” the older kid grinned widely up at Bucky. “We ain’t seen you for weeks!”

 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky…” The smaller one murmured and leaned forward until he was pressing his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky glanced down and smiled, putting his arm around the kids shoulders and giving them a small squeeze. The boy giggled.

 

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly. “You guys been doin’ alright?”

 

“Yeah, we been okay, we been spending a lot of time with Pammie ‘coz she’s teachin’ me how to read and Shaun stopped eatin’ all the rations too quick and we haven’t picked a fight with anybody,” The boy finished, smiling down at the other kid, Shaun, Steve assumed.

 

“That’s real good boys, huh? I’m proud of ya,” Bucky said. “But what’s all this with the dog? I know that ain’t your dog, you got too much on your plate to be lookin’ after a dog.”

 

The taller boy looked at his Shaun again, then back round at Steve, before settling on Bucky again, worry plain on his face.

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that guy, Alex, he’s with me, alright?” 

 

Alex raised his eyebrows slightly at Bucky, but said in a small voice, “He didn’t mean to.” Which made Bucky deflate and tug Shaun a little closer.

 

“Yeah I know. It’s alright.”

 

“Sorry, Bucky,” Shaun whispered into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky turned his head and pressed his face against Shaun’s hair, shutting his eyes. Steve felt like he was intruding, it was all so intimate and quiet.

 

“You’re okay, kid, it’s okay.”

 

They stayed, the three of them, together, like that, for a couple of minutes, then Bucky took a deep breath and drew himself away. “Go on, get outta here, I’ve had enough of your dumb faces,” he smiled.

 

“Yeah alright, you ain’t a looker yourself, old man,” Alex gave a small smile, tugging Shaun away who was waving his hands, back and forth.

 

Bucky waved back, smiling until they rounded a corner and disappeared out of their line of sight. 

 

Steve didn’t know what to say or what to do. He decided to let Bucky speak, if he wanted to. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t, it wasn’t really any of Steve’s business anyway. 

 

After what felt like an actual eternity, Bucky turned to Steve and said, “What the hell kinda dumb shit move was that?”

 

“I - what?”

 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes, saying, “Don’t play stupid, Steve, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

 

“You mean running off to save a helpless animal?” Steve scoffed, a little pissed off. “Yeah, i’m such an asshole.”

 

Bucky deflated a little, expression turning tired instead of outraged. “I mean just the running off part. Without even telling me or anything, Steve. Look, a lot of the people here are dangerous, okay? Running into those kids was just really fucking lucky.”

 

“Look at me, I can handle myself,” Steve muttered, scowling.

 

“I don’t give a shit if you think you can handle yourself, you gotta be more careful or i’m gonna have to save someone else’s ass to make ‘em follow me round all day.” 

 

Bucky was smirking when he turned to look, so Steve gave a sheepish smile back, praying to God he was gonna get let off the hook. He felt like a child being scolded by his mom.

 

Bucky tipped his head back and let out a long breath, then turned to the dog, still lay on the floor, looking pretty feeble.

 

“Okay pup, what are we gonna do with you, huh?” he spoke quietly and reached out his right hand to comb through the dogs thick, white fur. It rumbled out a long sigh and pushed its nose into Bucky’s leg. 

 

“Can you help with that wound?” Steve had learnt a fair bit about emergency first aid through necessity, but on a dog? He didn’t really have a clue. 

 

“Uh, I’m not sure if it needs bandages or stitches or whatever, but it needs cleaning at least. Definitely needs some water and he feels pretty thin too, so food as well,” Bucky leant back to sit on the floor and groaned. “This dog’s a mess, Steve, he needs fucking all kinds of stuff and I dunno if I can help him.”

 

Steve moved over to sit by him, crossing his legs and holding his ankles, “I’ll help too, if I can, y’know?” He nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own. “Not just gonna leave you to deal with this on your own after I dragged you into it.” 

 

Bucky smiled a little, shaking his head. “You gonna keep following me around, while I fix this dog, and pretend you’re helping?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Well good, because I’m gonna need that,” Bucky gripped his knee, so Steve placed his hand on top. “What are we gonna call him?”

 

Steve watched Bucky’s other hand still buried in the dog’s fur and said “How about Fluffy?”

 

Bucky looked at him and Steve thought oh my god that’s the stupidest name for a dog ever I don’t even like it, but then Bucky said “I love it,” and Steve thought, yeah, I do too. 

 

 

                                                                             *

 

About a mile and a half up the main road, where the buildings stopped and fields began, was an old barn house; not a picture perfect, red and white barn house, but a bleak grey one with a rippled metal roof and no windows. 

Steve was praying that there would be a smaller, less terrifying building right behind it that Bucky was taking him to, but as his luck would have it, Bucky walked right up to the crappy barn house and began wrestling with the huge doors to get them open. 

 

“I know it looks like I’m fighting a losing battle here,” he called over his shoulder. “but I swear there is a fine method to getting these doors to open the fuck up,” He grunted, shifting the doors further together until something fell off inside and the doors opened inwards a tiny bit. The dog edged forward, walking slow and wonky and started to eagerly push its nose through the gap. “I’ve just not been here for a little while. Agh, Fluffy, move, please. dude.”

 

“I hope you dont expect me to fit through that,” Steve said, unhelpfully. 

 

“No,” Bucky said, “I don’t. I might’ve expected you to help, but clearly I thought too highly of you.”

 

Steve chuckled. “Quit whining, what do you want me to do?”

 

“Okay, I’m gonna pull the doors back as much as possible, I need you to stick your hand in the gap and unhook the thing, yeah?”

 

“What thing?” 

 

“The hook,” Bucky looked at him, frowning. “Unhook the hook.”

 

“Oh my god,” Steve rolled his eyes and squeezed his hand through the gap as far he could, until his fingers felt metal. “I think I got it, just let me-”

 

He pushed it down and away and it sprung up and the doors suddenly gave way and started to move upwards. Bucky pushed them up until they were horizontal in the air and Steve could see inside. Bucky took pity on Fluffy and scooped him up, gingerly, trying not to touch his sore leg.

 

Bucky had put together a very mismatched, colourful little living space in one corner of the barn with roughly a million sheets hanging from the roof, separating it from the rest of the barn. There was a dreadful, paisely pattered sofa pushed against the wall and an upturned crate in front of it, littered with tins and water bottles; a bed was in the corner, the front legs had been snapped so it was strangely tilted down. Then there were the fairy lights. Bucky appeared to have single handedly gathered every single fairy light in northern America and crammed them onto the walls in this one corner of the barn. 

 

Bucky came to stand next to Steve and said, “Yeah, when this town runs out of batteries, I’m fucked.”

 

        *

 

“Sometimes I think my memory of fresh fruit is actually a fever dream I’ve had one too many times,” Steve said, scraping his spoon around the edge of the tin of beans he’d been picking at for fifteen minutes. He and bucky were sat opposite each other at the crate, Steve had his feet tucked under himself on the floor and Bucky had perched on the edge of the sofa, sharpening his almost alarmingly large collection of knives. “What was the last fruit you ate?”

 

Bucky stilled the movement of his knife through the sharpener (which was actually for kitchen knives, but it seemed to be doing the trick) and frowned at Steve. “Honestly, I can’t remember. I remember eating cabbage though, which is a tragedy.”

 

“Mine was raspberries,” Steve began forlornley. “I don’t even like raspberries, fruit shouldn’t be so fuzzy and they aren’t sweet enough. But they were the last fresh fruit I ever ate. I’d eat a million of them now if someone offered.”

 

“I think I’d probably kill a person for a cabbage.”

 

        *

 

They slept in the bed together. There wasn’t much of a discussion; Bucky got into bed and raised his eyebrows at Steve until he followed. It wasn’t the same anymore, nothing held as much meaning as it used to. Yet still, Steve’s breath was weak and his cheeks were warm when Bucky’s cold toes creeped under his legs. It’s not the same, he told himself firmly, this doesn’t mean anything. It was quite obvious that Steve was full of shit, however, because when he finally fell asleep with the warmth of Bucky’s breath on his neck, he did not dream longingly of the past, as he had done for so long; Instead his dreams were made of branched arms with pink and orange leaves reaching down to touch the water. 

 

        *

 

“Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against the ground?” 

 

“Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against safety?” Bucky countered.

 

“This is coming from the guy making me leap from building to building?” Steve rolled his eyes. To be fair, it wasn’t as though he was teetering on the edge of a skyscraper; it was a small town, but if he fell, he would most definitely break something and Steve rather liked his legs. Fucking heights. 

 

Bucky’s voice cut through the noise of Steve’s imagination, quietly telling him to, “Just jump, Steve, I’m right here.”

 

And that was that, really. So, Steve jumped and he landed and everything was fine. Except Bucky was right there, as usual, hands at Steve’s sides and lips curving upwards. His thumbs brushed Steve’s stomach, just under his ribs and Steve was suddenly very warm and Bucky’s gaze felt very heavy. 

 

He extricated himself in a calm and sophisticated manner, not looking back at Bucky as he jogged toward the next building.

 

        *

 

Over time, Steve began to realise that the people who stayed in the town had settled into a strange power dynamic that Bucky was sitting comfortably at the top of. Not many people seemed to mind this. 

 

Bucky actually seemed to act as an unofficial leader of these people, visiting everyone at some point to make sure they had enough food, water and to make sure they were still safe. He started to take Steve with him, although not very often because nobody trusted Steve. 

 

When Steve did tag along, it was usually for distributing food out to people, just to give Bucky a hand carting it all around. He, Bucky and Fluffy would spend days wandering out to neighbouring towns for supplies for everyone.

 

The towns remaining residents, Steve learnt, were all people who weren’t in the fit for surviving on their own; Bucky was looking after them all. Most of the time he didn’t interfere, it wasn’t as if they all needed constant care, but Bucky was the one who scavenged for food and medicines, protected them from those who would take advantage of them and built a community for them.

 

Alex and Shaun, the two kids Steve found with Fluffy, were brothers trying desperately to live on their own after their Mom was killed when Bucky found them. Alex was 8 (and a half!) and Shaun was 6. Pammie, the woman teaching Alex to read, had lost most of her leg to meningitis when she was 14. Maz, a grumpy man who never left his loft and slept all day so he could look at the stars all night, had alzheimers. 

 

Nick was the only one who liked Steve (though Steve though he actually liked Fluffy more); he was a vet like Steve. Quite often Steve would spend the day with Nick, letting him tell his tales of war and his men (‘My boys,’ he would always call them) because Nick would smile when Steve told his own stories of how much things had changed, or how much they really hadn’t. 

 

Eventually Alex started to warm up to Steve (this totally had nothing to do with Steve trying to buy his friendship with comics and toys and books) and agreed to let Steve come fishing with him, Shaun, Bucky and Fluffy, which they did at least once every month.

 

They hiked all the way down (heaving a million tons of fishing gear for two _young boys_ ) to the side of the river that Bucky had showed to Steve when they had first met and got settled on what seemed to be a church pew? Steve didn’t ask. Alex and Shaun instantly had their socks and shoes off, kicking the water up and shrieking at how cold it was while Fluffy bounced around them.

 

Alex handed his rod to Bucky and asked if he could sort the bait out because he wasn’t allowed to touch the pointy bit and Steve smiled at how well Bucky was raising these kids without even realising it. He sort of felt proud, maybe and he was absolutely not watching Bucky’s hands work with the rod when he felt a gentle pat on his elbow. 

 

Turning round he came to find Shaun sat on the pew next to him, one leg swinging either side, with his rod and reel in front of him. Shaun had never approached him before; Bucky told him that he had difficulty communicating with people

 

Shaun nodded, so Steve (desperately trying to remember anything his Mom taught him about fishing) picked up the line and tied it to the reel, fixed the reel to the rod, attached the lure, which looked like a weird green fish and snagged a small piece of bait on the hook. Holding it out, he gave it a little shake and sagged in relief when it didn’t fall to pieces.

 

Shaun squealed and grabbed it from his hand, sprinting away to join his brother at the very edge of the water. 

 

“You think they can take care of the dog, now?” Steve asks suddenly, the thought only just popping into his head.

“Really?” Bucky sounds surprised. “You’d let them? You love that dog.”

 

“So do you,” Steve counters. “Plus I think Alex has grown a lot. You probably don’t see it as much ‘cuz you spend all your time with ‘em, but he has.”

 

Bucky laughs quietly, “You’re right about that, I guess.”

 

They’re quiet for a moment, watching the kids wait for a fish, nearly vibrating with excitement. They both turn round a couple of times to wave and pull faces that Steve and Bucky return. 

 

“You’re growing on them,” Bucky whispered from his side. “Especially Shaun.”

 

“Ah, I hope so,” Steve could feel his face warming, so he dropped his head. “I don’t wanna push it or anything with them. You can tell me to back off if you want.”

 

Bucky frowned. “That’s the last thing I want, Steve,” he said. 

 

        *

 

A week later, Bucky woke Steve up by slamming a fist into his hip and screaming in his ear. Steve rolled out of the bed and onto the floor, laying low to the ground as if he was back in Afghanistan. When his brain caught up with his body and he realised it was just Bucky, he scrambled back onto the matress and tried to stop Bucky’s frantic thrashing. 

 

“Bucky… _Bucky_ … Bucky, come on,” He chanted the name over and over, trying to not shout and keep his voice steady and quiet, just like Sam used to do for him; Sam would never raise his voice to bring someone out of a nightmare, he said waking up to raised voices creates even more panic and stress.

 

Even with Sam’s voice in the back of his mind, guiding him through the steps, when Bucky opened his eyes and zoned in on Steve, he brought his left arm round to grasp the t-shirt at Steve’s sternum and throw him bodily onto the floor. 

 

Steve hit the floor with his shoulder first, but he didn’t even feel the pain through the shock of Bucky physically lifting him with just the metal arm and throwing him. What the fuck.

 

“Oh shit,” Bucky’s voice was wrecked and breathless. “Steve? Fuck.”

 

He collapsed on the floor next to Steve, still panting and sweaty, reaching out with his flesh arm to grasp at Steve’s chest. “I’m sorry, Steve, I can’t stop them, I didn’t, I didn’t know I’d do that, I mean, I just - they’re so, I…”

 

Steve sat up and Bucky fell quiet. 

 

“It’s okay, Buck.”

 

“No it’s fucking not, don’t be so - ”

 

“No, stop,” Steve twisted on the floor and crossed his legs, facing Bucky. He reached out to push his hand against Bucky’s neck. He was still sweaty and a little grubby, but Steve hardly noticed. “I know what it’s like, Buck. I was in the army, two tours overseas, I was a Captain and… I had to come back.”

 

Bucky’s brow furrowed deeply. “Why did you have to come back?”

 

“I guess it was just time.”

 

        *

 

When Bucky had calmed and checked Steve over, much to Steve’s chagrin, they found themselves back on the wonky bed, neither sleeping, but not talking either. Just sort of existing with each other. Steve felt an overwhelming stillness wash over them and turned on his side to stare at Bucky’s profile instead of the tin roof. 

 

“Are you afraid of going back to sleep?” Steve asked.

 

Bucky swallowed and his head rolled to the side to face Steve. Their noses were centimeters apart. Bucky’s long hair was spread across the pillows till it tickled Steve’s cheek. He nodded slowly, jerkily.

 

“Sam used to tell me to imagine the dream again, but carry it on, finish the dream the way you want it to finish, so it isn’t something to be afraid of anymore. Then you don’t have anything to fear when you shut your eyes.”

 

“I can’t remember it, though,” Bucky whispered. “I can’t remember any of it.” He brought his eyes up to Steve’s, so wide and so, so scared and Steve wished more than anything that Sam was there to tell him how to help. “I never remember anything, Steve, and one day, when you’ve gone, I’m so scared I’m going to forget you and all of this.”

 

When you’ve gone.

 

Because Steve could run through his town, eat at his table, sleep in his bed, but it wasn’t forever and the day would come where it would have to end. Steve promised Natasha that he would come back and he would. But Bucky wasn’t going to come with him.

 

So he wrapped a hand around Bucky’s and said, “Don’t worry about that, okay? Because even if you forget me, I won’t forget you.”

 

“I’m asking too much of you,” Bucky said as his eyes closed. “To be here with me, to put you through all this bullshit I carry round with me. It’s selfish.”

 

“It’s not something you ever asked, Bucky, but I’m still here.” He reached his hand over to cover Bucky’s and Bucky opened his fingers so their fingers could thread together. Steve could feel the goosebumps rising along his arm, making him shiver. 

 

He watched Bucky fall asleep again, lay watching him for so long; watching his breathing, his eyelashes, his mouth until he was fully settled and asleep. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, only having the courage because Bucky was asleep. He let his eyes slip shut and finished, “I love you,” and waited to fall asleep too.

 

But then the blanket moved and the bed dipped and soft lips were pressed to his own. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare, just pushed his lips, as gently as he could, back against Bucky’s. 

 

When Bucky pulled away, Steve opened his eyes to find Bucky’s face only inches away from his own. His eyes were wide. 

 

Suddenly, Steve’s brain caught up with the situation and he thought, ‘ _Oh_ ,’ before bringing his hand up to the back of Bucky’s neck and kissing him, hard. Bucky’s hand found its way to his waist and tugged Steve closer as he moved his mouth against Steve’s. 

 

When Steve pressed his tongue to the seam of Bucky’s lips, they parted with a gasp and his hand tightened around Steve’s waist, before sliding down to his hip and moving underneath his shirt. Steve let out a small, high-pitched moan at the feel of cool, metal fingers against his skin and he pressed even closer to Bucky. 

 

Fire flooded through Steve’s veins, trying to touch Bucky everywhere, take his shirt off and keep his mouth on him all at once, desperate to have every single part of him _right now._ He nearly lost his damn mind when Bucky’s leg slipped between his, the contact and pressure so sweet it was agonising.

 

Somehow, Bucky managed to get himself on top of Steve, knees on either side of his waist. He pulled his mouth from Steve’s, completely breathless, and sat back on Steve’s thighs, dragging Steve up with him by the front of his shirt and then pushing it up and off. He took a second to look and Steve felt his entire body rush with warmth, yet he still felt a shiver race down his spine. 

 

Bucky placed a hand at Steve’s neck and let his fingers trail down his chest, nails scraping gently. Steve absolutely couldn’t take it, he couldn’t harness any kind of restraint right now, so he pushed forward, burying his face in Bucky’s neck and shoving his hands under his shirt, pushing them up to Bucky’s shoulder blades as his teeth and tongue laved over the skin under Bucky’s jaw.

 

When his fingers skimmed the jagged edge of metal and skin on Bucky’s back, Bucky jolted, voice leaving him in a choked almost-sob, so Steve pulled back, but didn’t move his hand. They were both breathing heavily, both obviously very turned on but he had to make sure, so Steve rasped “Is this okay, are- are you alright with this?”

 

Bucky leaned forward to press his forehead against Steve’s and nodded. He moved down and kissed Steve again and again, quick, wet presses of lips on lips, on his cheek, on his nose, his chin, his jaw and back to his lips. When he took Steve’s lip between his teeth, Steve keened and let out an embarrassing moan, which just spurred Bucky on and he bit down on Steve’s neck, then his collarbone, then finally, after pushing Steve back so he could reach, placed his mouth over Steve’s nipple.

 

“Fuck,” Steve whimpered, grasping at Bucky’s shirt and tugging it over his head and heaving them back down onto the bed so they were chest to chest and kissing again, sloppily and desperate.

 

Bucky ground his hips down onto Steve’s which made them both whine and groan. Steve hiked his legs up around Bucky’s hips to make it easier and ran his hands down Bucky’s back until he reached the top of Bucky’s sleep pants, the soft, elasticated waist making it easy to slip his hands under till they reached Bucky’s ass and push down.

 

Steve never wanted to leave this moment, wanted to feel the heat of Bucky’s mouth on his own, wanted to smooth his hands over Bucky’s scarred skin, to move in sync with him, to hear Bucky chanting his name like a prayer, wanted Bucky to make him feel like this, like he was drowning but in the best way possible.

 

When Bucky finally touched him, took them both together in his right hand, his vision blurred. Everything faded in Steve’s mind, nothing else mattered in the slightest and he couldn’t have stopped this if the whole world was burning. When Steve reached his peak, it crashed through him so suddenly and intensely he thought he might’ve died for a second, with Bucky crying out and following him.

 

He collapsed on top of Steve, panting heavily with his head on Steve’s chest, clearly not caring about the mess. Steve reached up and threaded his fingers through the tangle of Bucky’s hair, not really paying attention to what he was doing while he caught his breath and collected his thoughts.

 

Eventually, their bubble of bliss was popped and Bucky got up to fetch a wet cloth and wipe them both down. Neither said anything until they were lying next to each other again.

 

“Bucky, I- ,” 

 

“We should both get some sleep,” Bucky cut in. “Sun’ll be up in about two hours.”

 

Steve stared at him, a little shocked at the casual tone, but Bucky was right and they still had things to do in the day that wouldn’t wait for them, so he nodded and murmured, “Okay, ‘night Buck,” and tried to fall asleep, feeling a little cold and wrong but not knowing why, exactly.

 

        *

 

“You should go back to Natasha.”

 

Steve whipped his head round to gape at Bucky who was still sewing a hooded jacket back together for Alex, totally unaffected by the bulllshit that had fallen out of his mouth.

 

“I- I’m sorry?” Steve questioned. He never expected, never even considered that Bucky would say something like this. Things had been a little tense since last night, but Steve figured that was general awkwardness and nerves.

 

“You heard me,” Bucky sighed and stopped sewing, turning to meet Steve’s eyes. “You know you have to go back at some point, she’s your family and its been long enough.”

 

“But, I can’t go now, Buck, I don’t wanna leave you now.” Steve said.

 

“Why, because of last night?” Bucky asked and Steve wanted to say _yes, of course, you idiot_ , but something in the accusing light of Bucky’s eyes stopped him and he just gaped at Bucky like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

 

“I can’t do that with you, I can’t be like that with you, Steve,” Bucky frowned but carried on. “I know you’re gonna leave and I’m not, I’m not _mad_ or anything at you, but I know this has happened to me before and I just forget people when they go, I dunno what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what happened to me before all this, but even sometimes when I don’t see Alex and Shaun for a while, they start fading in my head and I don’t wanna lose anymore of you, I can’t, I can hardly stand it as it is.”

 

Steve vaguely felt as though someone had pulled his heart, very slowly, out of his body and crushed it in front of him. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he had no idea what to say to Bucky anyway. He wanted to cry, to sob and wail like a child, but he didn’t. He pulled himself together and soaked up everything Bucky had said. 

 

He’d figured a bit of this out. Things people told him about Bucky, little things Bucky let slip, so he wasn’t surprised. It still hurt, more than anything he could’ve imagined, though. 

 

But, if this is what Bucky wanted, if it was what he needed, then Steve would give it to him.

 

“Okay,” Steve managed, though the words felt like cement in his throat. “I’ll go.”

 

Bucky honestly looked a bit surprised. As if he didn’t know Steve would do fucking anything for him, like he didn’t know Steve was head over goddamn heels for him. 

 

“Right. Um,” He looked down at the hoodie in his hands and cleared his throat. “Right. We’ll finish up with this and say good bye to everyone, if you want? Then, uh, get all your stuff together, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, of course. Gotta say goodbye.”

 

        *

 

Alex yelled at him, Shaun cried, but he didn’t really get that Steve was leaving, only crying because Alex was yelling. He took it and apologized and promised to visit (which broke his heart, when he knew he wouldn’t, but there are worse things than trying to comfort a child). They hugged him, both of them and even Alex was sniffling. He left them with Fluffy though, which earned him a big smile. He was glad to leave on a smile.

 

Nick stood and saluted him, which made Steve feel a bit queasy, but more honoured and he returned the salute with upmost respect. 

 

Pammie and Maz and everyone else wish him luck and told him they’d miss him and a bit of his heart broke with every single goodbye. He doesn’t know how long exactly he’s been here, his best guess was in months, but it was still _too soon._ He wanted to stay with these people, know them better, help them more, he wasn’t ready to go yet. Not yet.

 

And it happened so fast. Yesterday morning, he and Bucky had run lengths of the field, calling it ‘exercise’ when really it was just a competition. Bucky had won and Steve had tackled him, calling him a cheater and they’d ended up lying in slightly damp grass together, exhausted, but so happy. How could it have possibly gone so wrong, so quickly?

 

        *

 

He and Bucky packed everything of Steve’s up in near silence; occasionally picking something up up like the letter Alex wrote to him in huge, shaky handwriting, saying thank you for trusting them with Fluffy, or the weird tiny light they found that had fake jellyfish floating in it and saying _remember this?_ He was going to have to take a much bigger bag than he arrived with to lug back all the stuff he’d picked up.

 

Bucky walked him back through the town. They didn’t run over any rooftops. At some point one of them wove their hands together. When they came to the car bridge, Steve could see the rickety wooden bridge Bucky had taken him to so long ago and so many times since, and Bucky stopped walking. Their hands were still entwined. 

 

“I’m gonna stop here,” he said.

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, thats. Yeah.” He turned around and stood in front of Bucky, bringing his hands up to cup his face and took a deep breath. 

 

“You’re going to forget me,” he started. Bucky’s face pinched with pain, but he barrelled on because he was choking with everything he needed to say. “Listen, I know that and it’s okay. It’s okay, right? Because I will never forget you and everything we did together. I’ll never forget the people in this town and the things you do for them. The memories we made here aren’t going to disappear because I’m going to keep them and cherish them forever and ever, even if it hurts. And it will hurt because I love you so much. So, so much, I don’t even know what to do with myself. But it’ll be okay, yeah? We’ll both be okay.”

 

He didn’t particularly feel okay, he’d started crying halfway through his stupid little speech, fat tears rolling easily down his cheeks. In the back of his mind he could hear Bucky telling him tears are good for your skin. Bucky’s eyes were glazed, bottom lip pulling down a bit. He brought their faces together for a kiss, just a press of lips that he desperately tried to memorize before stepping back.

 

Bucky reached out and grabbed his hand. “They won’t forget you, either. They love you as well. Nearly- nearly as much as I do.”

 

Steve couldn’t hold back the sob that’d been building up since they stopped. It ripped out of him, wet and painful and there were so many tears in his eyes, he could barely see Bucky. He needed to go. He needed to go before he got down on his knees and begged Bucky to tell him to stay.

 

He thinks, later, that he said goodbye, Bucky and maybe Bucky said it back. He knows he turned around and started walking away, leaving Bucky behind him. He kept walking and walking, in a daze, mind completely blank and didn’t stop until his legs gave out and he fell asleep leaning against a car.

 

        *

 

He gets back to Natasha. It takes a couple weeks of walking, he hadn’t realised just how far away he’d managed to get before. She cries, which is weird. Clint cries too which is very not weird. Steve smiles and laughs and listens and he enjoys it, he likes listening to everything they’ve done. It’s pretty impressive how much the place has grown since he left, not that he spent much time there before anyway. Having Tony Stark around makes anywhere impressive.

 

They ask him what happened to him while he was gone and he tells them as much as he can without mentioning much about Bucky. He tells them about Alex and Shaun and Nick and the town, about this badass dude with a metal arm who saved his life. He doesn’t tell them about the bridge, or the barn, or fishing. He doesn’t tell them about sitting on the floor at oppisite end of a crate, eating an evening meal like a family. He doesn’t tell them about a wonky bed or a million fairy lights. 

 

They have a celebratory meal, which actually consists of food that hasn’t even been in a can once. Not once. It is incredible. Steve is nearly brought to tears. (He spends the entire time thinking about how much Bucky would absolutely be beside himself with joy at the prospect of a proper meal.)

 

When he goes back to his room (they never let anyone else move in there, despite it only being his room for about three weeks before), he unpacks his bag. Puts his clothes in drawers and places his knick-knacks around the room. He gets into bed and goes to sleep.

 

        *

 

He settles into a routine over the following weeks; learning about the community, finding something he can do to contribute, meeting people, eating, talking to Natasha and Clint, sleeping, not thinking, not thinking, not thinking. 

 

        *

 

Eventually, Natasha notices because she notices everything. She comes into his room one evening after he disappears and sits on his bed next to him. He isn’t at all surprised and she knows this. 

 

“Why are you so sad?” she asks. “Was there someone you had to leave behind?”

 

Steve nods. He feels tears on his cheeks again and he doesn’t even know why they’re there, now. 

 

She puts her arm around his shoulders and he leans into her feeling very small.

 

        *

 

Time passes.

 

He makes friends. He laughs a bit easier. He’s reminded of Bucky a lot, but it doesn’t make him as sad. Maybe even makes him a bit happy to remember. He promised he would, after all.

 

                                                                                                                         *

 

He’s sitting outside near one of the carrot plots eating oatmeal by himself when he hears a commotion.

 

In the main dining area people are shouting a bit and running away, theres not-so-hushed whispering and excited faces on younger faces, deep concern on older faces. He catches some of the words passed around and figures some lunatic is trying to get in to the settlement.

 

_“ - totally crazy”_

 

_“ - won’t stop shouting”_

 

_“ - can we go see?”_

 

_“ - going to fight”_

 

Steve sighs and starts to walk away, wanting to be as far away from this as possible. He hasn’t got the strength to deal with it today. But then. He hears it.

 

_“ - metal arm!”_

 

He freezes. For a second he thinks this is a really shitty dream and that its going to ruin his day when he wakes up. Then he thinks that this is most definitely not a dream and there is a guy with a metal arm trying to get in. _A metal arm._

 

He panicks quite spectacularly for a minute, hands shaking and mind whizzing through so many thoughts, he doesn’t catch most of them and he doesn’t really know what to do, because how could this possibly be happening. He’s totally frozen up.

 

“Steve.”

 

Natasha suddenly speaks up from behind him, making him jump and drop his bowl of oatmeal. He turns around and sees her looking ever so slightly frazzled and then he’s sprinting towards the gate, willing his legs to move faster, faster, _faster_. The noise gets louder, he can make out some of the guards yelling to _get back_ and then he hears his own name, yelled desperately and miserably.

 

He shoves through the crowd stood around the gates, ignoring the indignant huffing and tutting, apologizing as much as he can for someone who just doesn’t care right now. He finally, finally breaks through to the gate and sees him, looking haggard and tired and yelling, but there nonetheless.

 

_Bucky._

 

He stumbles forward and Bucky catches sight of him stopping all the yelling. He looks surprised, almost, as if he didn’t expect this to work. Steve laughs because thats ridiculous, how could Steve miss all the fuss he kicked up?

 

His feet move forward of their own accord, his laughs turn into sobs and then Bucky is in his arms, warm and solid, but shaking. He smooths Bucky’s hair down, making soothing noises in his ear, even though Steve’s a mess himself.

 

“I - I couldn’t forget, the memories just never f-faded,” he whimpers into Steve’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just holds Bucky for as long as he possibly can. As if he could ever let go again. 

 

                                                                                                                           *

 

They visit Natasha and Clint and Kate once a year and stay for a couple of weeks, praying the entire time nothing goes wrong back home. He loves visiting them, he always ends up enjoying himself, but the stress is incredible.

 

They get a cat, somehow. One morning they wake up and its just there, curled up on the little sofa as it it belongs there and never leaves. They both pretend to be annoyed but somehow ‘is that cat still there’ turned into ‘did you feed Fred’ because Steve is just the best at naming pets.

 

Alex and Shaun use ‘the time Steve left Bucky all alone’ as guilt trip material for _years._ Bucky sees no issue with this (he knows it was him that caused it. His fear and worry, but Steve won’t ever accept his apologies).

 

New people move into the town, good and bad, though the bad never stay long, not when Bucky is kicking ass well into his old age and Steve does absolutely nothing to try and stop him, but instead tries to join in the ass kicking as much as possible (even though he absolutely should not, Steve is not that spry.)

 

Things change, but they stay there, him and Steve and their strange family. Even though the world technically ended, things aren’t so bad.

 

       

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> okay so thank u for reading if u made it this far!!!!!  
> i wrote this like three years ago and found it recently on my icloud drive thingy so its...... messy i know  
> totally unbeta'd (CAN YOU TELL)  
> i am well aware no geography/time scale makes sense  
> just go with it
> 
> i live an breathe for kudos and im not too proud to ask for it
> 
> love to u all\  
> <3<3<3


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